Treble in Paradise
by astudyinpunk
Summary: When Stacie is forced to do community service, Donald is the last person she expects to find solace in.


Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect. That joy belongs to Jason Moore, Universal pictures and Gold Circle Films alone.

* * *

Chapter 1

Stacie groaned the second her eyes scanned the official-looking letter bearing the seal of Barden University. Even before her fingers slit the envelope open, she knew what was coming. Community service. Stacie wasn't the type to make lists, but if she did, she was pretty sure her list of the "Five Unpardonably Terrible Things in the Universe" list would go something like this:

1.100 Hours of Community Service during the summer when I could be sleeping in or partying or having sex or doing something productive with my life

2\. War

3\. Violence

4\. Hitler

5\. World Hunger

Okay so maybe she was overreacting just a tad.

"It's not even my fault!" Stacie yelled at the Muse poster hanging on her wall. Matt Bellamy stared back at her in silence, his wide-eyed expression quite humorously matching the situation.

* * *

It all happened a week ago_. _

Stacie had been dragged by Beca off to a party at Kappa Lambda Epsilon. Dragged, because she thought frat parties were pretentious and boring- they thought playing beer pong was _fun_, for crying out loud! Also those frat boys weren't particularly easy on the eyes, either. And honestly, what was the point of a party if she couldn't pick up a hot guy for the night?

Stacie knew that the only reason Beca wanted to go was because the Trebles would be there, and Beca could ogle Jesse without being reprimanded by Aubrey. Stacie also knew that she hated the Trebles- all of them, without any exception.

Still, on Beca's constant nagging, Stacie had pulled herself off her bed at seven, changed from her jeans and sweatshirt into a dress, thrown on a pair of heels and accompanied her friend to the frat house, where the party was already in full swing.

"Do I look okay?" Beca asked, pirouetting in front of Stacie, showing off the dress she had borrowed from Stacie.

"Adorable. Jesse is going to drop his jaw on the floor, guaranteed," Stacie said, deadpan.

Beca blushed, before slinging her arm through the tall girl's, and walking in to the noisy building.

Stacie lost sight of Beca in three minutes flat. She'd turned to grab a drink, and when she returned, Beca was gone.

Stacie groaned under her breath, scanning her surroundings for someone, _anyone. _The music was loud, pulsating, pounding in her head. The floor was packed with sweaty bodies, gyrating, moving with the music.

Normally, this was where she felt most at home, but tonight, Stacie felt as lost as a priest in a strip club. For one, she didn't know anyone. For another, the music sucked.

"Nickelback? For real? A four year old child hard of hearing could've picked better music," Stacie muttered to no-one, as she swigged the last of her vodka, enjoying the slight burn it left in her chest.

"Tell me about it. Ugh, like I know frat guys suck, but can't they at least pick good music?"

Stacie twirled around in shock, coming face to face with...that dude from the Treblemakers with the glasses and hair so loaded with product it could put a fourteen-year old white boy to shame.

"Do I know you?" Stacie asked, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back against the wall. She did know him of course. His name was Donald or Damien or something and he was (at least according to Aubrey and the other Bellas), the Trebemakers' man-whore in residence. Not that he wasn't talented or anything. Lilly kept harping on about how it was his beatboxing and rapping that always sealed the deal for the Trebles.

"You're one of the Snooty Bellas." It wasn't a question; it was more of a statement.

"Right, thanks." Stacie was in no mood for this. Had it been someone other than the Trebles, she'd have probably flirted and teased with him. He wasn't bad-looking, either. His thick glasses framed his face, emphasising his strong jawline and straight nose. He was dressed simply in a grey hoodie and black jeans.

"Don't you want to know who I am?" he asked, his voice low, and his dark eyes on hers, holding her captive.

"Not very keen," she retorted.

"You should be; we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon,"

"I highly doubt it." She scoffed, disarmed at how confident he sounded.

"Babe, you'd better take my words as gospel-when I say something, I'm not throwing around words."

_Babe. _

"What do you want?" Stacie huffed.

"Dance with me?" he asked, his voice almost...pleading?

"Seriously?" she said, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"..."

"Didn't think so."

"But Aubrey-" she started, more to herself than anyone else.

"The blondie isn't here, don't worry. I wouldn't get you kicked out of the Bellas just for a dance."

_How the hell did he know about Aubrey's rules?_

_Simple, _she answered herself, _he's hooked up with a Bella before._

"Why me?"

"Because your raven hair has captivated my dreams; every time I stare into your eyes, I feel like I'm falling into an endless void. Your lips are poetry that I want to spend endless nights trying to decipher the meaning of," he said dramatically, holding his hand to his chest.

"Whadaya think? Why you? Because you're the only one I know even remotely here." he said, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, what's that smell? The reek of your sarcasm, that's right," Stacie replied, unable to suppress a grin.

"C'mon, no appreciation for my impromptu monologue whatsoever? Damn," he said, feigning pain.

"'I'm the only one you know even remotely?'" Stacie repeated, ignoring him."For one, I can spot Chief Twit of the Treblemakers right there, stuffing his face with curly fries," she quipped, pointing at Bumper and Unicycle.

"Bumper has the grace of a three-legged walrus whilst dancing, so."

Stacie burst out laughing.

"All right then," she consented, taking his hand as he led her to the centre of the floor.

The track changed to some slow song she couldn't recognise. Suddenly she became hyper aware of how close he was to her. She could smell his cologne/after shave/ambiguous liquids that boys use-it was a heady mixture of spices, with a distinct edge of- oh dear god she couldn't focus when he was this close to her.

She felt his arms wrap hesitantly around her waist as they swayed gently to the music. She rested her chin on his shoulder and looped an arm through his neck, steadying herself.

She closed her eyes in bliss, inhaling again the musky scent of her partner. She may not know anything about him, but the man was a damn good dancer. He did most of the work, leaving her to relax.

Before she would've liked it, the song ended, and she found herself awkwardly detaching herself from him.

"Thanks for the dance, m'lady," he said, bowing lightly.

"M'lady? Damn, I can almost smell the fedora from here," she laughed.

"Har-har." he said drily. "Listen, do you want to get out of here?" he added a second later.

She looked up sharply, demurred.

"I'm not trying to get you into my bed, babe, don't worry." he says defensively, holding up his hands.

She quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Let's take a walk. Ya know, get a breath of fresh air."

Stacie stared at him for a second.

"I don't even know your name."

"I don't know yours either."

"You could be a murderer on the run for all I know."

"You could be a murderer on the run as well." He retorted, smirking.

He was openly flirting. _Dear God._

"Stacie Conrad," she said, extending a hand. "Not a murderer."

"Donald. Not a murderer either," he replied, shaking her hand.

"What, no surname?"

"Nah, I choose to not use it."

"What, why?"

"Long story." he said laconically.

"Let me guess- estranged parents?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

She bit her lip as she surveyed him.

"Okay. Let's get out."

* * *

"Look over there-what do you see?" Donald said, pointing his finger in a vague direction.

"I don't know, all I can see is a fuck-lot of fog" Stacie said, shivering lightly as the night ascended gently upon them. She hadn't thought of grabbing something warm before she left, so she could immediately feel tiny goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Look harder, Stacie," Donald urged.

"Uh, I don't know-it looks like the silhouette of a house...?" Stacie guessed.

"Exactly. It used to be an old sports centre, before the university folks decided to build a new, snazzy one with all the donations they got. It's just an old, dilapidated building now, which shouldn't be that big a deal, right? Except it is. No-one knows why, but there's an unwritten rule banning all students from even setting a toe in the building." He said, grinning.

"Okay..." she trailed off, already guessing where he was going with this.

"So I have always wanted to go in just for a peek-"

"Donald, NO! We're not going in there!" Stacie said loudly, causing a couple of students to stop in their tracks and look around.

"Oh c'mon, Stace-"

"Donald no WAY am I going in there with you!I'm a straight A student, I've never ever broken a single rule in my life!"

"Yeah but there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" he protested. "I just want to see what the big deal is! One peek and we'll run for our lives, okay?"

"No way in hell am I going in there, Donald!" Stacie said, warily eyeing the ugly building.

The building must've once been very beautiful, but now it was dark with peeling paint, with a smattering of algae here and there, and ivy criss-crossing the façade. This looked like the kind of place where small children were murdered in cheesy, low-budget horror movies.

"It looks like the lair of Smaug," she commented in a small voice.

"Okay, you don't want to come in? Stand guard outside, then. If anyone comes close, you can call out to me."

This was even worse.

"Fuck it, I'm not staying alone." she said, making up her mind.

"Yeah right, you're just excited about the prospect of being alone with me in a dark building," Donald smirked.

Stacie blushed, and smacked his arm. "Don't flatter yourself, Donny-boy."

He continued to smirk as they walked into the building.

* * *

She didn't know how long they were in there. She was only conscious of his warm hand clutching hers, as he led them in through the dark, dank building, their path illuminated by the feeble torch light on her phone.

"Shit," she heard him whisper as he stumbled slightly. "What the fuck?" he groaned softly.

"What happened?"

"I just stepped into some foul-smelling gunk, dunno what it is, though."

"Poop?" she said helpfully.

"How could poop get in here?"

"Maybe-" she started, when they were startled out of their wits by a loud voice.

"OI! You kids get outter there! D'you want ter get inter trouble? OUT, I say!"

Stacie nearly jumped out of her skin, and held a hand over her mouth to hold in her scream. Donald was looking as though he'd just spotted a ghost.

"Fuck, let's get out. Come on," he whispered shakily, before taking her hand and following the trail of their dusty footsteps to the door.

A short, red-faced man stood at the entrance, wearing a badge that proclaimed him to be 'Tate Simmons, Head Security Guard'.

"What in holy hell where you kids doin' in there?" the man asked, shaking his fist at them, his face turning, if possible, redder.

"Sorry," Donald muttered, not looking sorry at all. If anything, he looked pleased as punch.

"Save yer sorries for the officials, boy! You well know that the buildin' is off-limits for students, don't ya?"

"I didn't really know, sorry," Stacie said quickly.

"Are ya a freshman?" the man said, visibly softening at Stacie's words.

"Yeah, sorry we didn't know." Stacie repeated, hoping against hope that he'd let them go without any consequences.

"Sorry kid, you'll have ter face the music now. If it were anything else, I'd have let ya go, but this-this is a serious breach of them rules."

"Listen, can you just let us go? We didn't know, okay? Jesus Christ." Donald said impatiently, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sure you can go now, but expect some communication from the university's office in a week or so." Tate said, walking away.

"Thanks Donald, that was _such_ a great idea." Stacie said, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry, Stacie. I oughtn't have dragged you into it."

"Pfft, you're not sorry in the least, you bellend," Stacie laughed, punching his arm lightly. Sure it was a bummer, having to face whatever consequences they were going to have to face, but hey, it'd been a laugh.

Donald grinned.

"You can't be miss goody-goody forever, you know. Trust me, you'll be glad you did this, when you look back in fifteen years or so."

Stacie shrugged, knowing he was right.

"I think we've had enough adventure for today. Do you want to come back to my dorm for a drink or something?" Stacie asked, hoping she didn't sound like was trying to lure him into bed or anything.

It was weird for Stacie, this experience. She never spent this much time with a guy unless she wanted to get into his pants, but Donald- sure he was smoking hot, sure she could imagine him whispering her name in that low, velvety voice of his, but she wanted to _know_ him. She wanted to spend hours lying side by side with him and just talking and laughing. She wanted to watch movies with him, have goofy food fights with him, and-oh God she was over-thinking this.

With other guys, Stacie just coveted the ephemeral intimacy of the night. With Donald, though, she craved the companionship.

"Hell yes, I'm absolutely worn out." Donald agreed, causing her to grin.

Back in her room, she checked the wine cabinet she shared with her room-mate, watching as Donald stretched out on her bed and examined the music library on her open laptop. The way he lay there comfortably, like he'd been there before innumerable times, made Stacie smile. She tried not to imagine them under the blankets together, their bodies tangled, as he whispered sweet nothings into her bare skin, biting and kissing her here and there...

"Damn, I didn't think I'd find another soul who listened to Poets of the Fall," he said, sounding impressed, snapping her out of her thoughts. Stacie blushed beet-red, but thankfully he was too preoccupied to notice.

"They're one of my favourite," she said lamely. "What would you like to drink?"

"Just a beer for me, thanks."

Stacie grabbed two beers from the fridge, and made her way to the bed. He opened his arms, and she snuggled into him, pulling her laptop over to her, before handing him a bottle.

"Thanks," he muttered.

They spent the next hour exchanging random stories and anecdotes; Donald especially had stories about the Trebles that made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt. She in exchange told him about growing up with five siblings, and all the pranks and tricks they'd pulled on each other.

A while later, the conversation died down gradually, until all that remained a kind of a peaceful silence.

She looked up at him to see that he was gazing at her with his lips slightly parted.

"What?" she asked, smiling.

"Nothing, just thinking about how wrong I was."

"About what?" she asked, surprised.

"Thinking that the Bellas are all boring good-for-nothings,"

"Jeez, thanks,"

"Seriously, you're very cool. And...I was wondering if you'd like to hang out sometime again." he said, draining the last of his beer and sitting up.

"I'd love that," she grinned.

"Do you have a number I can reach you at? It's for science," he said, putting on a mock-serious face.

"Idiot," Stacie laughed. "Here you go," she said, taking her phone off her side table and handing it to him.

He tapped away for a few seconds before handing it back to her and standing up.

"You're gonna have to wait for my call to know my number," Stacie said with a wink.

"It'll be a torture I'm willing to endure, pretty lass," he said, bowing.

"Shut up!" she said, hitting his arm as she laughed.

"I've gotta go now; Bumper's called a rehearsal tomorrow morning and I need to hit my bed early for that. But I had a great time tonight and I hope to see you soon."

"You will," Stacie smiled, walking him to the door. "Thanks for everything."

Donald pulled her into a quick hug, before waving her goodbye and slowly retreating from her line of sight.

She sighed, and pulled her phone out her pocket and clicking it open. She grinned when he saw that he had added a bunch of emojis next to his name so that she could easily distinguish his name from everyone else's.

* * *

Now, Stacie's attention on the offending letter was broken by the loud text-message alert of her phone. She swiped it open, and bit her lip when she read the short message:

_Told you we'll be seeing a lot of each other ;)_

* * *

**A/N: Hello! So...this started as a means of procrastination on my college work, but I kinda liked what I'd written so here it is! Honestly I was kinda bored of Donald's portrayal as the typical ladies' man, so I decided to put my own twist to his character, whatever that is.**

**Do let me know if you like it and if you think I should continue, and I'll try updating it whenever I can. **

**-Astudyinpunk**


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